


Moan For Me, Watson

by IfIDiedYoungWouldYouNotice



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Agressive Sherlock, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anal cumming, Bathroom Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Hand Jobs, M/M, Muffled Moans, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quick Fuck, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 09:44:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5043484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IfIDiedYoungWouldYouNotice/pseuds/IfIDiedYoungWouldYouNotice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John are in Angelos, leading to sex in the bathroom stall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moan For Me, Watson

**Author's Note:**

> This fic had been unfinished for months, the first paragraph just all alone for what seemed like forever. BUT NOW ITS DONE. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

“I want you to moan. I want you to gasp in my ear, pretending like you’re trying to hide the sound, like you’re trying to smother it, but I still hear it. I want your fingernails to dig into my skin and your lips to move faster and harder and deeper against mine. I want your eyes to roll back in your head and your body to push into mine, until we’re sticking to each other’s skin. I want to feel the heat radiating from your skin, I want to feel your muscles shake against my flesh. I want you to beg and I want you to throw your head back, shuddering for breath. I want your neck to be exposed for me to bite and your chest to be bare so it can be skin on skin, flesh on flesh. I want your legs wrapped around me, I want us to grind on each other so hard it makes your muscles clench and your jaw drop and your eyes have a look of pure ecstasy. I want you to cry out for more, and more, and more. I need to hear you call my name, the sweet syllables of my name rolling off your tongue as you approach your orgasm.”

John was currently being pinned in the restroom of Angelo’s, Sherlock’s arms on either side of John’s head. They were currently in a stall, Sherlock’s eyes seeming wild with lust. He was breathing heavily, Sherlock’s deep and somewhat thick voice sent John into a blank abyss. He couldn’t think straight, his eyes focusing on the detective’s lips as he spoke such erotic word to him.

It was small in the stall, the sound of the door opening and closing every now and then alarmed John, but did not pose as any threat to Sherlock. The doctor didn’t know how they ended up in this situation, but he knew it might have had to deal with the conversation beforehand. While both men were ‘enjoying’ their meals (Sherlock not touching his pasta, and John picking at the duck he ordered), a somewhat awkward silence settling over them. They exchanged few words, and somehow ended up on the subject of Mary.

Such a touchy subject, for both men, that is. “What ever happened to your child?” Sherlock asked, John choking on the water he was currently swallowing.

“W-what?” John asked dumbly, his eyes wide with somewhat horror.

“Your child, what happened to it?” He made it seem like this question didn’t hold any real weight, and both men knew it. John knew that when Mary left, she was pregnant with his child.

“Honestly, Sherlock, I don’t even know. She never said anything about he or she, but..I suppose it has been more than nine months hasn’t it?..” John felt like there was a hollow feeling in his chest, and he knew exactly why.

What happened to his child? Was it a girl or a boy? John never thought about it, and sadly enough, he forgot that Mary was ever pregnant. Everything seemed so surreal, and now that John was thinking about it..He couldn’t believe he forgot they were going to start about a family. “Excuse me,” John said suddenly, placing his napkin on the table and getting up from his chair. “Need the loo.” Sherlock didn’t reply, and John left to the bathroom, quickly making his way to a stall and locking it behind him. He didn’t know what he was feeling right now, but he needed some sort of space. He knew Sherlock didn’t mean to offend, or at least he hoped he didn’t. The mad man just had the weirdest way of having a conversation, because he never really had conversations before.

John must’ve been standing there in the stall thinking for a long time, because the next thing he heard was a knock on the door. He slowly opened it, Sherlock standing in front of him with his eyes scanning him up and down.

“John, it’s been almost ten minutes,” Sherlock informed, his face clearly displeased with standing there. John was about to move out of the stall, but Sherlock sighed heavily and pushed him in, the tall man pressing both of their bodies together in the small stall.

“Sherlock? What the bloody hell-,” John was fuming at the detective, but was cut off by the man pressing his lips together with John’s. There was a slight struggle between both men ( _John trying to push Sherlock off, and Sherlock just holding John’s arms together in an unbreakable grip_ ), the wetness of their lips seeming to be the only sound in the bathroom. John knew what they were doing was wrong, they shouldn’t be snogging in the bathroom, this was a private thing to do. It shouldn’t be done in the stall of a restaurant, certainly not one they go to frequently that is.

“Sherlock…” John mumbled against the detective’s skin, Sherlock kissing John’s neck, the heat of his breath making John tremble. John tried to move away, but failed due to Sherlock holding his arms together over his head. There was a shuffle from the opening of the bathroom door opening, the sound of a sniffle making John go stiff. They shouldn’t be doing this right now. With weak arms, John tugged Sherlock of of his neck, the feel of hot saliva still making his skin burn. The air was warm, and Sherlock’s eyes were glazed over with a very lusty look, making John feel like his face was on fire.

“Sherlock, we shouldn’t do this. Not here.” John could feel the crack in his voice, Sherlock’s eyes squinting slightly.

“So, if we go home now...I’ll be able to make love to you?” Sherlock began to move close to John once more, the faint smell of formaldehyde coming from Sherlock’s skin (typical from all the experiments he did).

“I- I don’t know,” John stammered, his eyes avoiding Sherlock’s, landing on his lips instead. Their breaths mingled together as Sherlock pressed against John once more, the smaller man no longer thinking.

“John..Do you know what I think about when you act so cute?” Sherlock’s voice was very low, John having to keep from shivering at his words. He held onto Sherlock for dear life, Sherlock’s leg in between John’s thighs, supporting him.

“I’m not cute.” John tried, but failed as Sherlock slowly grinded on John, a moan softly escaping his lips. Sherlock began to kiss his neck over and over once more, the skin between and underneath his teeth turning red as he made hickeys. Oh how Sherlock enjoyed a very disheveled John underneath him, his mouth panting out ‘stop’, but Sherlock knew that John didn’t want him to stop.

Slowly putting a hand between them, Sherlock released John’s surprisingly hard member, the head leaking with precome. Sherlock stared as his hand moved up and down John’s quivering member, the doctor trying to hold in his moans as Sherlock stroked his member eagerly. Oh how the memories of sweet ecstasy with Sherlock flooded back into John’s mind, the soft whimpers of both men, and the mind blowing orgasms that ensued.

“John, you look so beautiful.” Sherlock mumbled into John’s neck, inhaling the scent of sweat.

“Oh God, Sherlock,” the doctor moaned, his mind going blank as Sherlock stroked him eagerly. Within a few moments, John pulsed into Sherlock’s hand, his breath coming out hard as he came on Sherlock’s hand. His body tensed as he released, but felt like jelly right after, his body slumping up against Sherlock as both panted. Sherlock was slowly grinding against John’s thigh, seeking friction for himself. He couldn't contain himself in the small space with his lover, he wanted desperately to be encased in the warmth that was John Watson. He needed to feel himself release in the doctor, he needed this, just like he needed air.

"Sherlock," John said softly as he clutched to the detective desperately, the afterglow of an orgasm still numbing his mind. "We should go back."

"Not yet.'' He growled into the smaller man's ear, the need becoming too much. He turned John, and grinded hard against his arse, earning as surprised gasp from him.

"Wait!" John whispered harshly, trying to ignore the hard on rubbing against him.

"No." Sherlock replied stubbornly, dragging Johns pants down to his ankles, taking his red shorts with them. John was about to punch Sherlock in the face for stripping his lower half, but he was already half hard. He didn't know why though, and it irritated him.

Sherlock then began to rub up against him again, slowly heating up the air around them. His curls stuck to his forehead, sweat slowly making its way down the side of his brow. He could hear John groan in protest, but stopped as Sherlock began to kiss his neck, Sherlock's lips ghosting over his sweet spot. The detective then released himself from the confines of his dress pants, his hard member springing up against his stomach.

"I'll make you feel so good," Sherlock whispered to John, his hand making its way to John's mouth, two fingers slipping into his mouth. The doctor couldn't help himself, he let out a loud moan, his body already knowing what was going to happen with those slicked up fingers, and it drove him mad. After a few more moments, Sherlock withdrew his fingers, and slowly moved his hand down to John's arse. He slipped the fingers in easily, a smile spreading mischievously across his face.

"Someone's been fingering themselves," Sherlock whispered huskily to the small man under him.

"No," John groaned, Sherlock thrusting his fingers in and out of him, hitting his prostate as he curled his long fingers. John felt his legs shake, the pleasure too much for his body to stand straight.

" _Shhh_ ," Sherlock whispered tenderly to the doctor, "I've got you."

"I-I'm. I'm _coming_ ," John replied, his body spasming as his orgasm hit him for the second time, his seed spurting on the wall of the stall. Without waiting, Sherlock slicked himself up, and then pushed himself into the warm heat of John. Both men groaned loudly, the pleasure blocking out all other feelings. They heard the bathroom door open again, and Sherlock felt John go stiff, but he didn't stop. The mad man snapped his hips up, and John instantly brought his hand up to muffle his loud moan.

"Sher...." John tried to whisper, his third climax slowly building. Sherlock's thrusts became faster and erratic, until he moaned loudly as he came into the softened flesh of the army doctor. John biting down hard on his hand as he came untouched, his seed spilling on the tiled floor. Both men felt like jelly, and the walls beside them barely kept them from collapsing on the floor. Sherlock wanted to stay inside of John, but the army doctor automatically began to pull up his trousers, and straightening himself.

"The floor is a mess." John said, his eyes on the puddle of his own come, a scowl on his face.

"I'm sure someone will clean it up." Sherlock said, zipping up his dark dress pants. He opened up the stall and began to walk out, his eyes scanning over his reflection in the mirror. His face was flushed red, his shirt was wrinkled and unbuttoned at the top, making him look as though he had just had sex. I look good, he thought to himself, a smirk on his face.

"I cleaned it up." John informed him as he stepped out of the stall, his eyes going wide as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His hair was sticking up in different directions, his shirt was also wrinkled, and also wrongly buttoned up.

"You look amazing." Sherlock said, causing John to tackle them, his hands wrapped around the taller man's neck. And that was how both men were discovered, completely disheveled, and one trying to kill the other.

People " _talked_ " and Sherlock was given the silent treatment for a week, but of course, no regrets. Who would regret shagging the love of their life in a small space, Sherlock couldn't think of anyone at the time.


End file.
